State Eyes Affordable Housing at Aqueduct in Queens, Betting on a Rare 100-Acre Chance

The closure of the Aqueduct Racetrack gives New York a generational chance to address its punishing housing shortage, but only if the state resists repeating past missteps.

On a map of New York City’s real estate frontiers, few parcels are as rare or as alluring as 100 contiguous acres in Queens—especially when comparable megaprojects like Hudson Yards seem puny by contrast. As the venerable Aqueduct Racetrack prepares to end its 130-year run this autumn, the sprawling property in South Ozone Park will transfer from the New York Racing Association to state hands, primed for a transformation whose outlines remain the subject of feverish speculation and civic ambition.

This month, the Empire State Development corporation announced public workshops to crowdsource ideas, but the logic of the city’s predicament all but dictates the preferred outcome: mass affordable housing. The city’s deficit of reasonably priced homes is byzantine and worsening; rents in Queens rose nearly 8% last year, and citywide, the median home now fetches more than $800,000—a sum that has quietly barred new generations from homeownership.

Yet the prospect at Aqueduct is different in scale and spirit from the luxury towers and headline-grabbing “placemaking” redevelopments of recent years. The site is nearly four times the size of Willets Point and Hunters Point South combined—two recent efforts that, though notable, have hardly moved the needle on affordability or diversity of housing stock. Aqueduct is big enough to matter: here is a blank slate on which New York could—if it dares—build a neighbourhood both at scale and in community likeness.

What would success look like? Not just battering the sky with glassy high-rises, but marrying density to humanity. A mix of apartment blocks, townhouses and rowhouses could echo the urban fabric of neighbouring Ozone Park. In a state where housing debates veer into pitched battles over zoning, height and “neighbourhood character,” that is no small consideration. The inclusion of both rental and ownership opportunities would broaden access, fortifying the city’s middle rather than chasing it away.

Ownership remains the holy grail for many New Yorkers—a dream more mythic than ever as property prices spike. The state could, in collaboration with municipal agencies and private developers, engineer lotteries for first-time buyers, or extend below-market loans, enabling modest-income families not just to rent, but to anchor themselves in the five boroughs for the long haul. Few other tracts offer such potential to counter the steady drift of middle-class New Yorkers to the suburbs or the Sunbelt.

Indeed, the economic advantages outweigh those of mere symbolism. Local businesses—rather than a parade of interchangeable chain stores—could be nurtured at a retail hub designed explicitly for community entrepreneurs. If New York is to recover its dynamism and remain affordable, the churn of local ownership, creative enterprise and diverse housing forms must replace the homogeneity that has accompanied so many recent “transformative” projects.

The stakes are not just municipal. The city lags far behind other large American metros in annual new housing production. While Austin and Houston sprout single-family homes on what seems like demand’s whim, New York’s housing starts have crept along at under 20,000 units per year. Persistent underbuilding has helped send its homeless count to a record 90,000 this winter; more than half of low-income tenants spend over 30% of their pay on rent. No place in the country more acutely illustrates the consequences—or the high cost—of failing to plan boldly.

Nor are only the numbers grim. The politics of housing have turned into a sclerotic mess, with state and city leaders trading blame for sharing too few carrots and wielding even fewer sticks. Governor Kathy Hochul’s ambitious housing compact fizzled in last year’s legislative session; meanwhile, mayors past and present have declared “affordable housing emergencies” without spurring a commensurate building spree. Each year, another neighbourhood meeting devolves into fearmongering over “outsiders” or “overdevelopment.” Aqueduct represents a chance to break that torpor: a sanctioned, state-owned blank canvas, buffered from the worst of parochial vetoes.

A racetrack’s last chance for a fair race

Still, it is far from certain the state will seize the moment. The pitfalls are legion: protracted design competitions, endless environmental reviews, the gravitational pull of luxury “amenities” and gilded towers forced onto the process by profit-seeking partners. The political temptation to sprinkle the site with a bit of everything—some housing, a casino, maybe a sports arena—remains potent. Those pastiche projects rarely cure the ills they claim to address.

The national context is sobering. Across the country, from Boston to San Francisco, localities are wrestling with the question of how to use public land to produce not profits, but public good. The Obama-era promise of “transit-oriented development” has too often yielded haphazard density without affordability. European peers such as Vienna or Singapore have marshalled public authorities to build and maintain high-quality, mixed-income housing at scale. America, by contrast, builds lists of “interested parties” and consults neighbourhood groups into paralysis.

What guidance can we offer New York in this rare moment? Preserve ambition, but not at the expense of focus; resist the urge to recapitulate the errors of earlier developments and the dogmas of yesteryear’s planners. That means eschewing a grab bag of piecemeal fixes in favour of a master plan that actually meets the housing need. Local communities should be consulted—but not handed a veto. A meaningful share of units should be kept permanently affordable, both to renters and, crucially, to modest-income buyers.

If the city’s leaders are serious about reversing decades of exclusion and shortage, then the Aqueduct development may be their single, best “shovel-ready” opportunity. The land, for once, is not the constraint. Only vision—and the willingness to withstand the howls of NIMBYism—will determine whether New York can once again serve as a plausible home for aspiration, not just for the fortunate or the fleet of foot.

As the thoroughbreds leave the gate a final time, it falls to policymakers to ensure that the next race run at Aqueduct is not simply for profit, but for a fairer, better-housed city. ■